


Matelot

by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Foursome Hinted at Towards the End, Garcyatt Hinted at Towards the End, Golden Age of Piracy, M/M, Multi, Shameless Smut, Using Time Travel to Have Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/pseuds/letmetellyouaboutmyfeels
Summary: Mid 19th century (nautical slang): from French, variant of matenot, from Middle Dutch mattenoot ‘bed companion’. The word from which we get the term ‘matey’.
Relationships: Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston, Garcia Flynn/Wyatt Logan/Lucy Preston, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Samuel "Black Sam" Bellamy/Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston, Samuel "Black Sam" Bellamy/Wyatt Logan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr in three posts:  
> https://letmetellyouaboutmyfeels.tumblr.com/post/176540245283/matelot  
> https://letmetellyouaboutmyfeels.tumblr.com/post/180840871198/honeymoon  
> https://letmetellyouaboutmyfeels.tumblr.com/post/184054560678/my-dear-my-darling-my-own-as-i-was-suddenly
> 
> Please picture Bellamy as played by Tom Ellis.

Lucy leaned onto the rail of the ship, watching the sun set. It was splashing the sea with gold and pink and purple as it went down and even though she knew it was probably just getting caught up in the romanticism of the yo ho ho pirate life, she couldn’t help but smile.

It had been a good day. A good mission. And she’d gotten to meet another badass historical figure.

Although, out of all the historical figures they’d met, few had been _quite_ as obviously flirtatious.

But then, Samuel Bellamy—“oh please, just call me Sam, we are all friends here after all”—was the sort of charming motherfucker who flirted with everyone. He’d even said a few things to Wyatt that were making Wyatt look like he was either considering jumping off the boat or questioning his sexuality and Lucy honestly didn’t know which option scared Wyatt more.

Speaking of…

The man himself came to stand at her side, gazing out over the water. Tall, dark haired, handsome as sin, and with the kind of dark eyes that made it impossible to tell what he was thinking. Sam Bellamy was definitely the kind of guy that mothers warned their daughters about (pity none of them thought to warn their sons as well).

“Enjoying the view?” he asked.

“We don’t get them like this, where we come from,” Lucy admitted. They hadn’t told Sam much about themselves, but he’d guessed quite a lot that they hadn’t told him. And he’d helped them kick Rittenhouse’s ass so really, Lucy felt she owed it to him to be as honest as she could.

Sam hummed, turning away from the sunset to lean backwards against the rail, his eyes raking over the assembled crew. Rufus was discussing the various and clever uses for gunpowder with some of the men, while Wyatt was being instructed in how to “properly” swordfight.

Flynn was leaning against the mainmast, watching it all, and Lucy didn’t fail to notice how Sam’s eyes halted on him.

She couldn’t blame him. Garcia Flynn in a full 18th century pirating outfit was… it was something, all right.

“Personally, I think I prefer the view from this angle.” Sam grinned at her. “So tell me, how long have you two…”

“Oh we aren’t,” Lucy said quickly—too quickly, judging by the mischievous light that appeared in Sam’s eyes.

“But you want to,” Sam replied, his voice dark and curling over the words in a way that Lucy refused to let make her shiver.

She looked away stubbornly. “It’s really none of your business.”

“Well I think it is. I’d hate to make a play for someone who’s taken and not keen on sharing,” Sam pointed out. “But if you’re not taken, or he is keen to share…”

“You’d like to bend me over, or some such,” Lucy shot back, feeling wrong footed and resorting to prickliness to try and right herself again.

“Oh no no,” Sam shook his head ever so slightly. “Not you, love. You’re the type of woman who makes a man want to fall to his knees.”

His voice was practically a purr as he said it, and Lucy had to swallow hard, her throat dry. Yes, all right, she wanted to be with Flynn. Had thought, at some points, that they were quite close to becoming something more than just the strangely intense friendship they’d forged for themselves. But she also couldn’t deny that Sam was very, very handsome and very, very charismatic…

Sam’s eyes drifted over her. Not… not mentally undressing her, exactly. More as though he was taking the measure of her.

“And something tells me you’re the type that likes to get men on their knees,” he added, his voice just above a whisper.

Lucy shivered and looked away. She hadn’t ever really thought about that, before. Sex was just sex, you fell into bed with someone. And most men she’d been with had preferred to be sort on top, not just physically but in attitude.

The idea of getting her hand in that dark hair, though, and making him get on his knees…

She looked over at Flynn, catching the tail end of his look at her as he flicked his gaze away. He’d been watching them.

Since they were on the subject, she’d love to get him on his knees, too.

“Somebody’s envious,” Sam noted with a grin. “Tell me, what is stopping you two from going after each other? It’s what you both want.”

“It’s…” Lucy scrambled for words. ‘Complicated’ seemed like an excuse.

Sam hummed knowingly. “Well, something tells me that if you asked him, he wouldn’t say no. In fact, I have a feeling he’d say quite the opposite. Multiple times.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “You think you’re real funny, don’t you?”

“Well what kind of person are you if you can’t laugh at your own jokes?” Sam replied. “If you don’t want him, though… I’ll certainly take him off your hands for you.”

With that, he pushed himself off the rail and started to walk towards Flynn. “Feel free to join us whenever you fancy,” he shot over his shoulder.

Lucy’s mouth nearly dropped open. But of course, Flynn wouldn’t be interested in that—would he?

She couldn’t hear what was being said from this far away, but Sam bent his head close to Flynn and said a few words. Probably something about business, judging by the way Flynn gave a short, serious nod.

And then Flynn was _following Sam to below decks what the—_

Lucy hiked up her skirts and hurried after them.

She could have easily told herself it was just envy that led her on. That she was painfully attracted to Flynn—more than just attracted, painfully _gone_ on him—and that she simply didn’t want anyone else to have him, but it wasn’t that. It was a burning inside of her, curiosity but also that telltale feeling of sparks in her spine.

As she made her way down the steps to the lower decks she heard voices, one gravely and accented, one British and smooth—and then she got down just in time to see Sam pin Flynn to the wall and kiss the living daylights out of him.

Her instinct was to say that Flynn would shove back, that he’d take control, but to her surprise Flynn gave a full-bodied shiver and just grabbed Sam’s jacket, hauling the other man closer.

They were close enough in height that neither of them had to bend over, Lucy realized nonsensically. That had to be nice for them.

It was possible that she was freaking out just the tiniest bit.

Sam pulled away, a delighted smile spreading across his face. “Oh, you _do_ like that, don’t you?”

Flynn growled at him and then hauled him back in. This time the kiss was less messy, deeper, slow and all-consuming.

Lucy could feel her stomach getting tight, her legs wobbling. Watching it was—it was—it was something, all right.

She dared to take a step closer, but she didn’t know this ship quite well enough and she stepped on a creaky floorboard.

Flynn tore away, turning, seeing her, his chest heaving. “Lucy.” He sounded like he was already panicking, already trying to find a way to apologize despite the fact that they hadn’t so much as talked about their feelings never mind acted on them.

“No,” she said softly. She was surprised at herself for speaking. The word just kind of… flew out of her. “Don’t—don’t stop on my account.”

Flynn’s eyes went a little wide, his face doing that thing where it froze as his brain scrambled to keep up with what he’d just heard. Sam stepped back, holding out his hand for Lucy. “Well, then, if you’d follow me, my cabin has a bed that I can assure you both is much comfier than these walls. Not that I’m opposed to wall sex on principle but given the amount of limbs involved…”

Lucy rolled her eyes at him, but then stepped forward. Flynn still looked a bit like someone had dropped a sack of bricks on his head, and Sam was simply standing there patiently, so it looked like if anyone was going to seal this deal it was going to be her.

She took Sam’s offered hand, squeaking in surprise when he used it to yank her in, his arm coming around her waist to hoist her up and kiss her. She really ought to have expected such a thing from a pirate, she thought, and then she wasn’t thinking much at all because he really was a _very_ good kisser.

Sam set her gently back on the ground. Lucy felt a little concussed herself now.

Flynn was staring at the both of them, and there was no way she could second-guess the dark look in his eyes now for anything other than desire. “Lead the way,” he said to Sam.

Sam’s smile was nothing short of sin.

The captain’s quarters were quite nice, considering these were the captain’s quarters on a pirate ship owned by one of the most famous and richest crews sailing the oceans. Lucy, however, didn’t care if there were chests overflowing with gold coins in the corner—all she cared about was the bed, and the fact that it did in fact have room for three of them.

She climbed onto it, bouncing a little, and then turned to face the other two, grinning. Sam took a step towards her and she expected him to kiss her again but instead he just put a hand at the small of her back, and then looked at Flynn.

Flynn, who was staring at her the way she’d stared at the sunset earlier. Maybe with even more awe than that.

“Go on then,” Sam whispered, leaning into her ear. “He’ll do whatever you say. I guarantee it.”

“What good is the word of a pirate?” Lucy shot back automatically, feeling butterflies erupting in her stomach.

“As good as yours, out here,” Sam replied.

Lucy reached up, crooking her finger at Flynn. “Garcia.”

He closed the gap between them, his eyes searching her face, his hands settling tentatively at her shoulders.

She took his chin in her hands and drew him into her, kissing him.

For a moment he was soft and gentle against her, pulling away ever so slightly, as if testing that this had actually just happened.

Then he dove back in, kissing her the way she’d dreamed he would kiss, deep and dangerous and full of reckless single-mindedness. She moaned a little, her hands grabbing at his coat, struggling to push it off. His tongue twisted in her mouth and she could feel her spine melt just a little and she needed more, all of a sudden starving for it.

She felt another pair of hands, larger and rougher than hers, joining her in helping to strip Flynn. She got bare skin under her hands and she mewled, pressing herself up against Flynn, feeling the warmth of him, the scars, the way the muscles tensed and jumped underneath her fingers.

Flynn tore away from her mouth only to start kissing down her neck, over her cheekbones, everywhere, yanking her collar aside so that he could get at more of her. Her eyelids fluttered but she could see Sam coming up behind Flynn, kissing slowly up the ridge of his shoulder.

His eyes met hers and he winked. “Slide over, would you Lucy?”

She wasn’t sure why but she did, scooting over to the side out of the way.

That was when Sam executed some kind of fight move and neatly flipped Flynn onto his back on the bed. Sam straddled him, taking the opportunity to yank his own shirt off.

Flynn grabbed Sam, yanking him down, kissing him again, and Lucy had not realized that Flynn was quite so enthusiastically non-heterosexual but she was not complaining in the slightest. She took the opportunity to slide her own clothes off, sliding her own hands over her body, touching herself as she watched them together, the way they rolled their hips, grinding against each other, the way they growled into their kisses.

Sam grabbed Flynn’s wrists, pinning them to the bed, and then pulled away just enough to speak. “Do you want Lucy to hold you down?”

Flynn’s gaze flickered over to her and Lucy shuddered, her thighs slick at the naked need she saw there. “Yes.”

Sam looked at her. He didn’t say anything, but his gaze was enough: _and you want to hold him down, don’t you?_

She moved until she was kneeling behind Flynn, her hands carefully replacing Sam’s around his wrists, holding him down. She bent over, kissing Flynn upside down, chasing what she wanted for once without asking herself what the consequences would be.

Flynn bit her lip and at first she thought it was just him being playful but then she pulled away, gasping, and saw that Sam had a hand between Flynn’s legs and was twisting his fingers in and out of him.

This was clearly not Flynn’s first rodeo, not from the way he worked his hips down, the impatient growl that he gave. Lucy had to grip his wrists hard to keep herself from letting go and putting a hand down between her own legs. She had no idea where to look—at Sam, at Sam’s fingers, at Flynn’s face—she wanted Sam to touch her like that, she wanted to see Flynn fall apart, she wanted Flynn inside of her, she wanted all of it in a greedy, reckless way that she so rarely allowed herself to feel.

Lucy kissed Flynn all over, held him down the way he liked, as Sam entered him. She pulled back only to watch, her gaze perpetually drawn to them, and whenever she did, Sam would lean down and kiss Flynn instead as he kept his strokes deep and slow and rolling.

She hadn’t known that she specifically wanted this until now, but when they got home, oh, she was definitely going to practice on taking Flynn apart like this. He was half impatience, half bliss, and the bliss was quickly winning out.

She watched, entranced, as he came, his eyes locked onto hers, his body straining. She wanted him to come like that inside of her before the night was over.

But first.

Lucy looked up at Sam, who was pulling out carefully—and not, like Flynn, quite done yet. “I did tell you my patience was legendary,” he told her.

“You said that when we were laying siege on a fort, forgive me for not immediately translating it into the bedroom.”

“Well, why not? Everything I say can be translated into the bedroom,” Sam replied, and before she could say anything in response to that he was hauling her into his lap and kissing her.

Lucy melted into the kiss, digging her nails into his shoulders. She was so wet she thought she’d go mad if she didn’t get some relief soon, and she could feel him, hard and hot underneath her.

But first he pulled away, grinning up at her as he passed her to Flynn, who wrapped his arms around her from behind and began to slowly kiss down her neck.

“I do believe I said something about getting on my knees for you,” Sam told her, and then he was spreading her thighs wide and licking up them.

Lucy cried out, grabbing onto Flynn with one hand and threading her fingers through Sam’s hair with the other, her head falling back onto Flynn’s shoulder as Sam worked her relentlessly. Not that she had doubted him before but this was definitely something he did often, his mouth on her moving without mercy, without hesitation, just hot, perfect, maddening sensation.

“ _Prekrasna žena_ ,” Flynn murmured, and she had no idea what he was saying but the hot, curling tone in which he said it was just enough and she sagged in his arms, coming hard, Sam still between her legs.

She was still gasping, trying to get her breath back when Sam crawled up her body, nudging against her. Lucy nodded, letting him know that it was okay, and he slid inside of her.

Oh, God, it had been far too long since she’d had proper sex. Why the hell had she waited so long?

Flynn kept touching her, kissing her, murmuring to her—mostly in English but sometimes in Croatian—as Sam fucked her. At first he was slower, the way that he had been with Flynn, but then Lucy grabbed and told him to actually _fuck_ her, hard, and he did just that with a cheeky grin and a “whatever the lady wishes.”

She’d pay him back later for the smarminess but right now she just didn’t want either of them to stop touching her, not ever. She was clawing at Flynn, arching her back, her mouth falling open as her body started to get overwhelmed from the dual sensations, the two sets of hands, the two pairs of mouths, Flynn’s voice at her ear and Sam’s cock inside of her and when they weren’t kissing her they were kissing each other and she liked watching that as much as she liked being touched and this was the best goddamn idea—

Lucy really, really hoped the sound she made wasn’t quite as loud to people outside the cabin like oh, say, Wyatt and Rufus, as it had been in her own ears.

Oh _God_.

She had one more mission, though, and she could feel Flynn hard against her back—not that she could blame him, that must’ve been a hell of a show—and she was not leaving this damn room without finally getting to be with him.

Lucy turned over, putting her hand on the center of Flynn’s chest and pushing. She didn’t even have to push hard. He followed the pressure of her palm, lying down on the bed and gazing up at her, patient, expectant.

She swung her leg over his hips, and for a moment they just looked at each other, each breathing heavily, sweat making their skin shine in the lamplight.

Sam gently ran a hand through her hair, tugging on it slightly before kissing just behind her ear. “Go on,” he whispered. “It’s okay to take what you want, Lucy.”

Lucy looked down at Flynn. Reached down, and gently, oh so gently traced the lines of his face with her fingertips.

Flynn caught her hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing the palm, the knuckles, his eyes dark and worshipping as he never tore his gaze away from hers.

 _Oh_ , she thought. Oh. _Oh._

_Why are you here?_

She raised herself up carefully and then slowly, ever so slowly, sank down onto him.

Flynn made a kind of choked gasp, like he was simultaneously overwhelmed and disbelieving, his hands coming up to settle on her hips. He lay still, even though she could feel his legs quivering underneath her, his chest heaving. He had to want to fuck up into her, he had to, but he waited.

Waited for her.

Had that been what he was doing all of this time? Waiting for her word? For her say so?

She didn’t know whether to smack him for not saying anything or to burst into tears of gratitude at the idea of someone letting her be so wholeheartedly in command.

But this wasn’t the time or place for either of those things, so instead she simply started moving.

She didn’t have the patience to make it last too long, not after all they’d already done. Sam took his sweet time kissing them both, touching them both, looking like the cat that got the cream and the canary to boot as he watched her fuck Flynn. Her legs burned, and after a point, she couldn’t hold herself up anymore. She fell forward onto Flynn’s chest and he rolled them, landing on top and fucking into her hard, fast, almost frantic, and she moaned uncontrollably at the feeling, of being touched like they were racing against time to do it, and then Sam slid his fingers down in between them, moving through her slick folds to rub at her clit and there was no holding on, no waiting, just stars in her blood and uncontrollable spasms of pleasure wrecking her.

They fell asleep in a pile of tangled limbs, but it was Flynn’s heartbeat in her ear that she heard as she said goodbye to the waking world.

Sam was all smiles as they said goodbye after docking, winking at them both as they departed. “A pleasure,” he informed them both.

Lucy really couldn’t agree more.

“Oh, and do tell Mr. Logan,” he added, “that if he ever wants to stop clinging to that sexuality of his, to look me up.”

With that he winked once more and was gone.

There was a pause, and then Flynn said, “I’m gonna tell Wyatt.”

“Don’t you dare!”


	2. Chapter 2

Now that Rittenhouse was defeated, time travel was probably not going to be a thing for much longer. Had to keep the timeline stable and all that. But they could also use time travel now and again for more relaxing things, for fun things, a sort of reward for all the damn hard work they’d put into saving the world and time itself. It made Lucy actually enjoy the idea of it, which she supposed was what Mason had planned for this invention in the first place.

Rittenhouse defeated also meant time for other things—things like Flynn, his fingers shaking slightly, his voice thick, asking her to marry him. Things like her saying yes and clutching him so tightly she thought she’d leave ten finger-shaped bruises.

And they knew exactly what—or rather who—they were doing for their honeymoon.

Lucy had learned to pilot from Rufus and Jiya about a year ago, and so it could’ve been just her and Flynn going, but Wyatt was stressed as all get-out from being a single parent (Flynn was the only one who’d been able to get him to talk about Jess and the sacrifice she’d ultimately made) and so they convinced him to come too so he could just relax on a beach for a few days.

While Wyatt relaxed on said beach, Lucy and Flynn made straight for the harbor.

It was about a year after they’d first met him—at least, a year for Black Sam Bellamy, although it had been two long, exhausting years for Flynn and herself. They found him in a tavern, casually flirting with the woman serving drinks and gambling with a few men that were presumably from his crew.

The moment he saw them, his smile turned from lazy to that of a cat with cream. Lucy’s stomach flipped over. He really was unfairly handsome.

Beside her, she felt Flynn get stiff in that tell-tale way that meant he was turned on and trying not to show it too much.

“’Scuse me,” Sam said, standing up and abandoning his cards. His gaze never left either of them. “I’m afraid I have to fold.”

He walked around the table and right up to the pair of them, eyes gleaming and a slightly disbelieving smile on his face. “Well, well. Can’t say I expected either of you to be showing up again. Must be my birthday.”

“We were in the neighborhood,” Flynn said. “Thought we’d see if you were up to anything tonight.”

“Well, I didn’t plan to be, but now I’d say I’m booked solid.” Sam winked at Flynn and then took Lucy’s hand, kissing the knuckles. A shiver ran through her and she didn’t bother hiding it—she could feel both Sam and Flynn’s dark eyes on her and oh, yes, they’d made the right decision in coming here.

Sam offered her his arm, graciously, and she took it, Flynn taking her other arm. She loved the lack of pretense, the lack of games—the simple truth in both men’s eyes when she looked at them. They all knew what they were about. They all knew what they wanted, why she and Flynn were here, and they were reaching for it. It was refreshing, like taking in a deep gulp of air after being in a stuffy room for days.

The ship was pretty much silent, the crew all out on the town for the evening. “I’m afraid I didn’t know you were coming,” Sam said as they descended below, “or I would’ve prepared something special for—”

Flynn moved, letting go of Lucy and taking Sam by the hips. Sam, however, was good at reading a man’s tells, especially a man he’d fucked senseless once before, and he twisted, slamming Flynn back against the wall. Flynn probably hadn’t expected that he’d be the one pinned in this situation but he also looked happy to roll with it, tugging Sam in and promptly kissing him.

Lucy swallowed hard, heat simmering low in her stomach. Flynn kissed with raw desire, with every inch of his body, with passion that made her knees buckle not so much in arousal (okay though there was plenty of that) but awe that she could inspire that in him, in anyone. But Sam kissed with calculated finesse, with a kind of relaxed command that was contradictory and intoxicating. Watching the two of them combine and combust as their mouths moved slick and hungry against each other made her bite her lip to hold in a whimper.

Sam rolled his hips into Flynn’s, and she could see the outline of both of them as they started to grow hard, her mouth watering. She wanted so many things—but they had days for this now. She could be patient.

…after she took the edge off.

Lucy cleared her throat, and both men wrenched their mouths apart, turning to her and remembering that it wasn’t at all polite to keep a lady waiting.

She had a moment of indecision—the best kind of indecision when trying to choose between which very attractive man to kiss first—and decided on Sam. After all, he was the reason they’d made this trip.

Sam, sensing her choice, obligingly picked her up by the waist so that she could wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him without straining her neck. Hazard of sleeping with men almost a full foot taller than she was. She tangled her fingers in his long hair, tugging a little, getting him at the angle she wanted so that she could get as much of him as she could.

There was a creak in the floorboards and then she felt Flynn’s hands sliding up her body, briefly tangling with Sam’s before moving up and around to cup her breasts, tweaking a nipple through the fabric of her dress. He planted a kiss on the back of her neck, then the curve of her shoulder, then her pulse point. Sam’s leg slid between hers, pushing up, and her hips rolled instinctively, the pleasure pooling low in her stomach spiking, crackling like an electric spark. Both men seemed more than happy to dedicate themselves to driving her crazy.

She pulled away just enough to suck in a gasp of air. Sam, undeterred, kissed down her throat, teeth nipping slightly, then pulled back up to grab Flynn and kiss him again.

“Bed,” she managed, still grinding down onto Sam’s thigh, feeling Flynn hard against her ass. “I seem to remember you had a rather big one.”

“I got an even bigger one since the last time,” Sam told them, pulling away with a mischievous grin on his face. “I’m still surprised we managed to get it into the ship, had to take down a wall.”

“Worth it?” Flynn asked.

“For the looks on people’s faces when they enter? Most definitely. Can’t bother to do a thing if there’s not a certain amount of flair attached, otherwise what’s the point?”

“You docked your ship for weeks to put in a new bed.”

“Well I was also conveniently hiding out from the East India Trading Company at the time and posed as a furniture maker so it all worked out.”

Flynn snorted, and then scooped Lucy up around the waist. She shrieked in surprise and Sam burst out laughing. “Oh, I like this, you two are much more playful.”

“Marriage’ll do that to you,” Flynn said, and then flushed red. Neither of them had gotten used to saying it yet.

“Well, well, well, congratulations are definitely in order then,” Sam replied, eyebrows shooting up and a pleased smile on his face. He sounded genuinely happy for them, and Lucy braced herself on Flynn’s chest to lean over and kiss the corner of Sam’s mouth.

“We owe it to you, y’know,” she told him.

Sam winked and gave a little bow. “I do what I can. Sex and matchmaking services all at once, I should start charging.”

“Is that really fair when you get so much out of it too?”

Flynn carried her into the bedroom, following Sam. There were clothes strewn haphazardly everywhere, maps on the desk, and the sheets were rumpled, but Lucy couldn’t have cared less. After all, they planned to mess the room up even further.

Flynn set her down onto the bed with the kind of aching gentleness that always made her heart race, and then gave an undignified _oomph_ as Sam practically tackled him.

Lucy burst out laughing as both men—both proud, stubborn men—did an impressive minute and a half of either competitive making out or extremely homoerotic wrestling, depending, Lucy supposed, on your point of view. Flynn wound up on top, and had a second to look triumphant about it, and then Sam neatly flipped him and set about yanking Flynn’s clothes off.

She crawled over to them and helped Sam out of his own clothes, running her hands eagerly over the firm muscles and scarred skin. She’d missed Sam. He was the kind of guy who made it easy to like him, who lightened up a room—but one that she suspected had hidden depths not only in his intelligence and perceptiveness but in his heart, in his past.

Sam took her hand and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it as thanks and then got back to turning Flynn into a pile of mush. Lucy sincerely enjoyed watching Flynn fall apart, and took the time to get her own clothes out of the way while Sam settled between Flynn’s legs.

“Pass me that bottle over by that pillow, will you?” Sam asked her, winking.

Lucy obliged him, then pushed Flynn’s hair back and kissed him as Sam moved his hand down. She knew the moment Sam started to work Flynn open because Flynn bit at her lip, his hips shuddering.

“That’s it,” she breathed. She’d gotten a lot more confident since that first time, knew how to order, how to soothe. “Relax, Garcia.”

Flynn growled a little into her mouth as Sam added another finger—and then he groaned, eyes glazing over. Lucy smirked. “That’s it,” she cooed. “Let us hear you. We can’t know we’re taking care of you if you don’t let us know things.”

Flynn gave her a look like she damn well knew what she was doing to him, but then Sam twisted his fingers a little and Flynn just about melted.

Lucy swung her leg over Flynn’s chest. “Think you can multitask?” she asked.

Flynn nodded, his eyes flicking up and down her body, at her heaving chest, her flushed cheeks, her slick thighs. He got his hands around the back of her legs, getting two handfuls of her ass and pulling her up to his mouth, licking a long stripe through her folds.

Lucy moaned, partially to give Sam a show. She heard him chuckle and then felt her hair being pushed to the side so that he could kiss up her spine, along her shoulder. “I don’t know who to look at,” he whispered, his tongue darting out to trace the shell of her ear. “You, or him.”

She heard him pull away from Flynn and then he shifted around to kiss her properly, his fingers skimming up and down her body. His fingers slid down, joining Flynn’s tongue, his dark eyes watching her. Lucy’s legs seized up and her breath punched out of her as she twisted, clinging to Sam for support so she didn’t fall over. Flynn knew so well by now how to touch her, how to—and Sam was—oh God oh _God_ —

It was like she fell over the edge before she even realized there was a cliff in front of her. Sam lifted her and set her gently at Flynn’s side, Flynn kissing her, getting a handful of her hair and tugging sharply, making her toes curl.

“Let’s play a game,” Sam suggested.

Lucy turned to look at him, as did Flynn. Sam’s eyes were glittering, his hand drifting down to wrap loosely around Flynn’s hard cock, toying with it. “I fuck you, until I come, and then you fuck me until I’m nice and ready again for the lovely Lucy here?”

Flynn arched his eyebrow, clearly hearing the challenge in Sam’s voice. “I have another idea to go with that.”

“Oh?”

Flynn smirked, looking over at Lucy, then flicking his gaze up to the silky fabric still tied to the bedposts. “Did you know Lucy likes to be tied up?”

“Oh does she now.” Sam’s grin was wicked. “So what do you propose?”

Lucy felt hot all over. She’d just orgasmed but already she could feel that tell-tale pressure building up at the base of her spine again, her body aching for it. “I propose we do as you say—but when it’s Lucy’s turn, we each fuck her. Captain first, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And we see if Lucy can hold out that long.” Flynn looked over at her, his finger trailing down to circle idly around one of her nipples, that fake casual look on his face that really meant he was being calculating, setting up a plan.

“That depends,” she replied, grabbing his hand and sucking on the finger, swirling her tongue around it before popping it back out again. “What’s my reward?”

Flynn gave her an _you and I both know what the reward is_ look. Of course the reward was a) a fantastic orgasm at the end of all this and b) getting fucked by two of the hottest men she’d ever met, one of who was, conveniently, also the man she was in love with (although she dared anyone not to fall just a little bit in love with Sam).

“We’ll make it worth your while,” Sam replied, kissing the inside of her thigh. “But I think you’ll find the whole thing a reward in itself.”

Lucy swallowed, trying to get her dry mouth to work. “Then it sounds like a plan to me.”

Sam sucked a small bruise into her thigh and then pulled back. “Well in that case—”

The rest of what he said was lost as an impatient Flynn kissed him, yanking Sam down between his legs again. She could see Sam laughing into the kiss, and then he was helping Flynn onto his hands and knees and Lucy had to scramble to get a view of Flynn’s face as Sam entered him.

She was more than happy to kiss Flynn, to feel his every shudder and jolt, but if she did that the whole time then she couldn’t see him or hear the fantastic little noises he made. Flynn was quietly vocal, making noises but not loud ones, except when he was getting fucked. Then he couldn’t seem to help himself.

Lucy ran her hands over him, half to soothe and half to stimulate him more, getting underneath him and kissing down his chest as Sam started to really pick up the pace. Flynn’s jaw ticked as he held himself back, clearly wanting to come but following the plan, the orders, not letting himself, as Sam pressed himself to Flynn’s back and started to lose control. She ran her hands through Sam’s hair, kissing his cheek, reveling in the scrape from the stubble and continuing her way down along his back.

Flynn was encouraging Sam, telling him to fuck him harder, to come on, to give it to him, and Lucy was definitely tempted to touch herself and get off just watching them.

But she’d said she could hold out, and she would.

Sam shuddered and came, prompting a wounded noise from Flynn, who looked about as desperate as it was possible for a human being to get, with his eyes all black and his mouth open and slack. Lucy kissed the both of them, petting them, working them down a bit as they caught their breaths, chests heaving.

Then she guided Flynn onto his back and pulled Sam in. “Time to get you ready,” she said, handing the jar to Flynn and then bending down.

The sound that punched out of Sam hiked up the heat in her blood as she licked up his cock. She was close to overstimulating him, she knew, and Flynn’s fingers slowly working their way into Sam’s ass couldn’t have been helping matters. But he still pushed back into Flynn’s touch and rocked forward into her mouth, asking for it instead of moving away.

Lucy kept her throat relaxed and moved up and down, wanting to get him hard enough to fuck her, too impatient to tease. Flynn, on the other hand, seemed to be doing the opposite, purposefully avoiding Sam’s prostate and waiting until Sam was cursing a blue streak at him to add a third finger.

“Impossible man,” Sam told Flynn, trying and failing for an impatient tone.

Lucy pulled off and got out of the way as Sam pushed up on his knees and Flynn guided himself into him. “He is, isn’t he?” she agreed, scratching her nails lightly up Flynn’s chest. “Good thing he’s pretty.”

“Very pretty,” Sam agreed, a little breathless as he sank down onto Flynn’s cock inch by inch.

Flynn politely gave Sam enough time to get comfortable—and then thrust up hard, making Sam’s jaw drop open and his eyes slide closed. It was a very, very pretty sight if you asked Lucy. She trailed her fingers down her throat, touching her breasts, just a little, just to take some of the edge off. Flynn’s eyes narrowed to slits as he watched her. She knew from past experience that Flynn liked it when she put on a show, so she got a little bolder, making noise, putting her hand between her legs to make sure she was nice and open.

Sam’s eyes opened too when he heard her, and he looked like he just about choked as he watched her. Lucy tugged on her own hair, moaning, biting her lip, feeling a rush of power and pleasure as both men took in the show.

Flynn’s jaw looked incredibly set, and she doubted he was going to last much longer. She stopped touching herself, moving over to get her hand around Sam’s cock instead, helping him along as she kissed up his chest.

Sam wrapped a hand around the back of her head, humming when she licked and sucked at his nipples for a moment before moving up to his neck and getting a mouthful of him. Flynn groaned, his pace going wild, and Lucy turned to watch as his eyes lost focus and she felt him coming.

Flynn caught hold of her hand and she squeezed tightly, Sam tipping forward so that his forehead rested against hers. For a moment, the three of them just breathed together.

Once they’d all had a chance to steady themselves, Lucy scooted back, taking one of the silk ties and twirling it around her finger. “So?” she asked. “Which one of you will be not a gentleman and tie a lady up?”

The two men looked at each other, and then by mutual silent agreement moved, each obligingly taking one of her wrists and tying her to the headboard. Lucy tugged experimentally, rotating her wrists, checking that it wasn’t too tight but that she also couldn’t get out.

“We’re good,” she told the men.

Flynn cupped her cheek gently, his face almost unbearably tender as he leaned in and kissed her. He then kissed Sam too, for good measure, although he was a bit rougher, getting Sam to push back, to bite at him and get dominant with him the way that Flynn secretly craved.

Then Sam’s hands were sliding up her legs, parting them, and Flynn was kissing her and… _oh_. Yes.

“Everything all good?” Sam asked, his voice rich and low as Lucy adjusted to having him hot and thick inside her.

She nodded, gasping as Flynn sucked at her pulse point. “Y-yes.”

Sam started to move, slowly at first, but then Flynn grinned and whispered, “Remember, she likes it rough,” and Sam was more than happy to oblige. Lucy shuddered, already close to coming apart, feeling stretched in the best way, tugging at the restrains and getting that extra jolt of pleasure as she felt them hold tight.

Flynn was kissing her, kissing Sam, running his hands over both of them, and she wanted to touch so badly but she couldn’t, she could only shudder and gasp and _react_ as Sam thoroughly, with one hundred percent of his considerable attention to detail, fucked her until she arched her back and screamed.

She kind of lost the details after that. She felt Sam come, felt someone—Flynn, she recognized the calluses on his fingers from holding a gun—rubbing at her clit, continuing her orgasm, making her feel like her eyes were rolling back into her head. She felt Sam slide out of her, she was kissed, kissing back—oh God oh fuck Flynn was fucking her now and Sam’s mouth was at her breasts and she couldn’t—oh, oh _fuck_ oh—

Everything went white and black and fuzzy and she could have sworn, for just a second, that she was made of stars, of the ocean, of something more.

And then she was just herself, just Lucy, human and resting her head against Flynn’s shoulder as Sam undid her wrists and rubbed them considerately, as Flynn held her and hummed tunelessly into her hair.

“How long are you two staying for this time?” Sam asked, passing Lucy a flask.

She eyed it and he laughed. “Just water, love, I promise.”

She drank, watching out of the corner of her eye as Sam stole another kiss from Flynn. “We’re staying about a week, we thought,” Flynn answered.

“Just a week?” Sam’s smile was that of a true pirate. “Then we’ve no time to waste, do we?”

* * *

The rest of the next couple of days passed in a blur of sex, sleep, sex, the occasional swim, sex, Sam and Flynn memorably sword fighting for fun at one point, and more sex.

Eventually, she and Flynn decided to take some time alone—no offense was taken by Sam, who had quite a few lovebird jokes for them—and set out for a beach day.

“I hope Wyatt’s all right,” Lucy mused, dozing next to Flynn on the sand. They hadn’t seen hide or tail of him, which was understandable since they’d seen nobody, really, all this time.

“I’m sure he’s wasting away in Margheritaville,” Flynn replied, wearing sunglasses because he was Garcia Flynn and fuck being historically accurate. “Or whatever the equivalent alcohol is here.”

Lucy promptly forgot all about Wyatt and everything else when Flynn then rolled over and decided it’d been a while since he’d kissed her thoroughly, and then they built a sand castle, and then took a leisurely walk back to Sam’s ship.

Sam was lounging out on the deck, peering at what looked like accounts. Lucy paused.

That jacket he was wearing looked weirdly familiar.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t, by any chance, seen the guy we came with?”

“Ah, Master Sergeant Logan?”

“Yes.”

“The one with the very pretty blue eyes?”

“Yes.”

“About… yea tall?”

“Yes.”

“With the very nice ass?”

“Yes.”

“…nope. Haven’t seen him.”

“You’re wearing his jacket,” Flynn replied mildly.

Sam looked down at himself. “Ah, so I am. Well if you want to wake him go right ahead but I suggest you let him sleep for another hour or so. I hope you don’t have any intention of taking him back too soon because—”

“We’ll find a tavern,” Flynn said, rolling his eyes as Lucy gave in and burst into giggles.

Her husband grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her back towards the gangplank as she kept laughing. Oh, she was never letting Wyatt live this down once they saw him again.

Flynn’s hand slid down from her wrist to tangle their fingers together, squeezing gently. Lucy smiled up at him, her chest light. It seemed to hit her all at once—she was with her husband. Her _husband_. The guy she was stupidly in love with, who was beyond in love with her, and they were celebrating the start of a whole damn life together. One that wouldn’t, thank God, be interrupted by evil time traveling organizations.

She couldn’t wait.


	3. Chapter 3

“Borrowing the Mothership again?” Mason asked as Lucy led the other four down the steps.

“Rufus wants to take Jiya to see the ‘real Pirates of the Caribbean’,” Lucy replied. “And Flynn and I have a standing engagement.”

“They made me come,” Wyatt added.

“Right, because it’s so difficult to lounge on the beach for two days,” Rufus said.

They all piled in. They tried not to abuse their ability to use the time machines at their leisure now that Rittenhouse was defeated but… what was the point of having a time machine at all if you couldn’t use it to visit your 18th century friend with benefits?

“Darlings,” Sam drawled, eyes lighting up as Lucy and Flynn walked up the gangplank to his ship. “You do have the best timing, we’re lying low for a week or two until some hullabaloo dies down.”

“Which I’m sure you started,” Lucy noted.

Sam kissed her thoroughly hello, and then did the same with Flynn. “Now, that would be telling,” he told her. “Where are your friends, the one who was always complaining and the handsome one who was pretending to only like women?”

“Rufus is with his wife in town, Wyatt went swimming.”

“And how much time have you got for me today? I got this lovely new toy…”

Lucy laughed. “Lead the way, captain.”

* * *

Wyatt did his best to avoid any place that Lucy and Flynn might go to, and that especially meant Sam Bellamy’s ship.

For the first couple of days, that worked great. Just get some sun and surf, hang out with Jiya and Rufus a bit, play some cards, engage in some light piracy… but then he got, well, bored.

He was the only one here without a doting spouse to help him wile away the hours, although pining broodily on the pier sure took up a good chunk of time. When he’d done about all he could while alone, he went over to Bellamy’s ship to see if Lucy and Flynn had emerged from the haze of sex and would be interested in maybe causing some trouble in town.

When Wyatt strolled up to the deck, he didn’t see Lucy or Flynn, although the captain himself had decided that it was a no shoes, no shirt, no problem sort of day and was idly reading a book.

“Hey.” Wyatt strode over. “You seen Flynn and Lucy?”

“The lovebirds?” Bellamy saved his place in his book and set it aside. “Went into town, Lucy needs a new corset.”

“…dare I ask what happened to the last one?”

Bellamy gave him a smile of pure sin.

Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Great, I’ll just…”

Bellamy jumped to his feet. “Now, hang on, Wyatt–may I call you Wyatt?–there’s really no reason to be rushing off. You’ve grown bored, haven’t you?”

Wyatt folded his arms. “Who says that?”

“You’re coming to check on the darling Lucy and her paramour when you knew full well both were probably occupied with me. So either you’re bored enough to want to interrupt them, or join them–”

Wyatt flushed. He hadn’t thought about–well he had thought about–but not that he’d ever–he wouldn’t–he accepted long ago that Flynn and Lucy were perfectly happy without him and he was fine, really, he wasn’t going to–

“Ah.” Bellamy’s voice gentled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was like that.”

“It’s not like anything.” Wyatt couldn’t look him in the eye. He was scared of what Bellamy would see.

“They’ll come back soon,” Bellamy noted. “I could see about asking them if you could join us. I know I’d quite enjoy that.”

Wyatt felt like his face was on fire. “They’re, uh, they wouldn’t–Flynn and Lucy don’t want me like that.”

Bellamy hummed. “Well, darling…” He reached out, and Wyatt didn’t know why he didn’t move when he really should, he should pull away, but Bellamy gently stroked his fingers down the side of Wyatt’s face and he was standing very close and he didn’t have a damn shirt on and he was very handsome and Wyatt kind of forgot what breathing was. “…I can’t presume to be the cure for all ills, but I’m told I’m quite distracting for broken hearts.”

“You wouldn’t want me,” Wyatt blurted out, even as Bellamy cupped his cheek and Wyatt felt like a butterfly pinned to a wall, heat starting up in him that had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. “I’m, uh, I haven’t–”

Bellamy’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, but I do, and I’m told I’m a very good educator.”

He leaned in, just slow enough that Wyatt could pull away if he wanted to, but he couldn’t, rooted to the spot, and then they were kissing and Jesus Christ, Wyatt definitely didn’t want to.

Bellamy’s hand moved up into Wyatt’s hair, tightening, holding him in place as he took control of the kiss, his tongue sliding with the ease of ownership into Wyatt’s mouth and Wyatt felt his knees giving way. He gave a pathetic whimper as he grabbed onto Bellamy’s shoulders, and then another strong, callused hand was gripping his hip, pulling him in, and _Jesus_ , the guy was really nothing but muscle.

It had been–years, wow, it really had been years–since Wyatt had been kissed. And Sam Bellamy knew how to kiss, seemed to even know that Wyatt didn’t want to be the one in charge, seemed to know that the way to get Wyatt from zero to sixty was to plunder Wyatt’s mouth like conquering territory.

Maybe he should be a little more worried about all this, about thirty-odd years of hiding himself being thrust out into the light in one fell swoop, but he was a man out of time, a man on a pirate ship of all places, and if he couldn’t let himself take what he wanted, who he wanted, here then where could he?

Bellamy pulled away, leaving Wyatt panting, hard as a goddamn iron rod, and dizzy with need. “The things I’m going to do to you…” he murmured.

He slid his hand down between them, lightly squeezing Wyatt’s cock through his breeches, and Wyatt jolted, heat rushing through him, making his legs shake.

“Rule number one–and I’m sure you’ll follow the rules, won’t you, pet? You like when people give you rules to follow.”

Wyatt nodded, his throat too dry to speak.

“Rule number one, none of this ridiculous captain business. Just Sam will do.”

Wyatt nodded again.

“Rule number two, you tell me if you need me to slow down or stop.”

Wyatt nodded.

“And rule number three is… we get downstairs out of this heat to where I have a very convenient and dare I even say comfortable bed. Shall we?”

Sam took Wyatt’s hand, and Wyatt let Sam lead him down into the ship. His heart was pounding in his chest as he asked himself over and over again if this was really happening, did he really want this, was he really ready for this?

The answer to all three was _yes_.

If he couldn’t have Flynn and Lucy, then he might as well let the handsome as fuck pirate captain rail him six ways to Sunday, right?

Sam’s room was luxurious, as Wyatt had expected, the bed large and rumpled, and he tried not to think about why the sheets were all askew that way, what Flynn and Lucy had been doing in here a short time ago, their limbs entwined, mouths musing over each other’s skin, their hands clawing at each other’s curves.

It was no good daydreaming about what he couldn’t have.

Sam closed the door behind them, then pressed Wyatt up against it. “You’re thinking too much, pet,” he informed him.

“Give me a reason to stop thinking, then,” Wyatt retorted. He ran his hands up Sam’s bare chest, pressing a little, testing, feeling the lack of give, the pure muscle.

Sam chuckled, but avoided Wyatt’s mouth, instead delicately kissing up Wyatt’s neck, tiny, shivery little kisses that had Wyatt digging his nails into Sam’s chest, desperate for something to anchor him. Sam’s slowly pushed Wyatt’s thighs open, spreading him, and the feeling of being at someone else’s mercy like this had a fresh rush of heat shooting through him, his cock straining painfully against the confines of his pants.

“It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it?” Sam murmured. He ran a finger along the outline of Wyatt’s cock and Wyatt gave a strangled moan. Jesus Christ, he was gonna come in his pants if Sam kept this up.

Sam slowly unbuttoned Wyatt’s shirt, his mouth following, until he was sucking a bruise into Wyatt’s stomach and Wyatt’s vision was blurry, his eyelids fluttering.

When he straightened up Wyatt nearly toppled over in surprise, saved only by Sam’s hands as Sam pushed him back up to standing.

“Lesson number one,” Sam whispered, his voice dark and lush and full of sin, “is showing you how good it feels to have another man’s cock against yours.”

He undid Wyatt’s pants and his own, drawing their cocks out, and Wyatt just about lost his mind. He gave a strangled groan as Sam slowly stroked their cocks together, swiping his thumb over the head, getting them good and wet. “Ever done this before?”

Wyatt shook his head, feeling desperate and strung out. “’S–’s good,” he slurred, thrusting his hips uncoordinatedly up into Sam’s touch.

Sam sucked at his jaw, undoubtedly creating a hickey. “It gets even better,” he whispered, and then he was shoving his knee in between Wyatt’s legs, changing the angle, thrusting, and oh _holy shit–_

“Fuck!” Wyatt yelped, wrapping his arms around Sam’s shoulders and clinging on for dear life. “Sam–fuck, _fuck_ –”

“That’s it,” Sam encouraged. He was watching Wyatt’s face hungrily, and that just turned Wyatt on even more. “You’re so–so pretty like this–mmm make some more of those noises for me–”

Wyatt groaned, his eyes wide and wild, so close–so so close already, it felt so good and so new and foreign and dirty but fantastic all at the same time and he hated that it had taken him thirty years to get to this but fuck it felt so good, Sam was holding him by the hips and guiding him and oh fuck yes–

Wyatt came before he meant to with a final harsh thrust, startled by it, jerking roughly in Sam’s grip. “Jesus fucking…” he slurred. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m–”

“That,” Sam assured him, “was magnificent.”

He kissed Wyatt slowly, deeply, with a hint of teeth. “Now for lesson number two.”

Fucking hell, he’d barely survived lesson number one. “What’s that?” he asked, trying to sound cocky and mostly just sounding needy.

“How good it feels to have something up your ass,” Sam told him bluntly, but with a wink at the end. “On the bed, love.”

Wyatt did as he was told, letting Sam guide him onto all fours. There was a bit of rustling, and then he felt Sam spreading his legs. “Just relax for me,” Sam instructed, “and let me know if you want to stop.”

At first Wyatt jerked when he felt fingers circling, searching, but Sam rubbed at his back soothingly, and then it was almost like a massage–the weirdest massage he’d ever gotten, sure, but a damn good one–until he was relaxed and sinking down into the sheets.

Sam slowly worked a finger into him, just the tip, and Wyatt tensed up again. “Relax,” Sam reminded him.

Wyatt, to his shame, could easily picture Flynn doing this to him, could hear Lucy being the one to tell him to relax. He’d be so good for them, he’d do whatever they wanted…

He focused back in. Sam was here, and Sam was hot as sin and showing him the ropes and being patient and ohholyfuckaddinganotherfingerohJesus…

It felt weird, he wasn’t gonna lie, but Sam was patient and then it started to feel good, like really good, he liked the stretch, liked feeling filled–it made him feel dominated and he liked that, he really, really liked that–

Then Sam found something that made Wyatt’s cock jerk and his whole body tense up as fucking electricity shot through it. He yelped, shuddering, and Sam chuckled.

“And now you know why everyone goes on and on about this,” Sam laughed, amused. He added a third finger, kissing lazily up Wyatt’s spine, until Wyatt felt sloppy and open and very, very much ready for more.

Sam, however, did not seem inclined to hurry, and the more Wyatt pushed back against Sam’s fingers, the more Sam just toyed with him. “Sam, please, c’mon,” Wyatt panted. “I want–c’mon I want it, I want it–”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, like he wanted to confirm that Wyatt was asking him to pass the salt.

Wyatt was practically writhing on his fingers and he wanted to ask if Wyatt was _sure_? “Yes, goddammit, fuck me!” Wyatt growled.

“Greedy,” Sam teased, lightly spanking him, and Wyatt moaned in response, okay, great, that was another kink to add to the list apparently.

Sam pulled his fingers out, and helped Wyatt to spread his legs a little more, and then he was lining up and ohhhhhkay okay that was–that was a lot, hmm, wow, all right, Wyatt could–holy shit he could feel it in his fucking _throat_ –

“Breathe for me, pet,” Sam reminded him, kissing the back of Wyatt’s shoulder, his arm around Wyatt’s waist and his hand stroking soothingly along Wyatt’s chest.

Wyatt inhaled sharply, then forced himself to exhale. Sam chuckled. “That’s a good boy.”

Wyatt glared at him over his shoulder, but breathed in and out deeply a few more times until Sam was satisfied.

Then Sam started moving.

Shiiiiit.

The edge of discomfort fell away embarrassingly quickly and then it was just _holyfuckingshitsogood_ , slick and stuffed and stretched and oh yeah, yes, just like that… Wyatt didn’t even know what he was saying, just blurting out encouraging words, anything to get Sam to keep doing that. His cock was filling again between his legs, getting hard, and he wanted to reach down to stroke himself but Sam batted his hand away.

“You’re coming just like this,” he ordered.

Wyatt whined. “I can’t–”

“Yes you can,” Sam replied lightly, and then he shifted his angle and started hitting that spot again and oh _fuck_ , yup, yup, Wyatt was gonna fucking come.

“Oh Jesus,” Wyatt panted harshly, hands clawing at the sheets. “Jesus, fuck, Christ, God, _fuck_ yes–”

“I’ve always wondered,” Sam mused, “if we’re not supposed to be doing this, then why did God make it feel so damn good?” He kissed Wyatt’s shoulder affectionately as Wyatt whined helplessly, squirming against Sam’s relentless thrusts. He could feel stars going off behind his eyes.

“I wonder what would happen if I made you wait?” Sam asked. His arm tightened around Wyatt’s waist. “If I made you hold off until I said so?”

“Please,” Wyatt found himself begging. There was no way he could do that, not when it felt this good, no fucking way. “I can’t, I can’t…”

“Not right now, no, but with time.”

The idea of doing as Sam said, of waiting, of coming when Sam said he could–that definitely had an appeal. “With–with time, okay, yes, but please–”

Sam fastened his teeth around the meat of Wyatt’s shoulder. Wyatt yelped, his cock jerking helplessly. “Shh, shh, don’t you worry. You can let go, Wyatt, I’ve got you.”

Wyatt shuddered so hard his toes curled, feeling on fire in the best way, his hands twisting the sheets until he nearly ripped them. Sam kept hitting that spot, hard and fast, and Wyatt gave himself over to it, moaning Sam’s name and curses and God knew what else as he came like a shot, staining his stomach and chest, feeling so damn good his head shot up into the clouds and didn’t come back down for a good long while.

When he did come back down, he realized that Sam was gently pulling out of him–still hard. Wyatt felt a rush of shame, but some of that must have shown on his face because Sam immediately shushed him, petting him. “No, no, I held back, and it was quite hard to do–no pun intended–I promise. You’re a delightful little thing.”

Wyatt would normally have objected highly to being called a ‘little thing’ but in this context it just made him shiver, and Sam must have figured that, damn him.

Sam arched a challenging eyebrow at him. “You see, I was thinking you might want lesson number three: the joys of giving a proper blowjob.”

Wyatt grinned at him. “How do you want me?” He licked his lips deliberately, peering up at Sam through his lashes, pouting just a little.

Sam laughed. “Oh you are a quick learner. We’ve got quite a lot of fun ahead of us yet.”

Wyatt smirked. He couldn’t wait.

* * *

Flynn was in for a surprise when he got back to the ship with Lucy.

Sam was emerging from below deck, looking rather, ah, ravished, with some new bite marks on him that Flynn knew he and Lucy hadn’t put there. “Moved on already?” he teased, helping Lucy up onto the ship.

“Oh, no, just providing a solid education,” Sam replied. “Got to do my part to give back to the community.”

“You’re a true paragon,” Lucy laughed. “But who is it?”

Sam walked over to Flynn and Flynn felt himself melting all over again as Sam pulled him in, gently wrapping an arm around Flynn’s waist and kissing his neck. “Your blue eyed boy, Wyatt Logan.”

“Wyatt?” Lucy sounded both amused and shocked.

“Oh, yes.” Flynn wound a hand in Sam’s hair as he continued slowly reclaiming the territory he’d been so fond of that morning. “He’s rather besotted over you two and convinced you can’t return his affections. The usual story.”

Flynn froze, pulling back to look Sam in the eye. “Wyatt–what?”

“Wyatt _likes_ us?” Lucy sounded as shocked as Flynn felt.

“Quite enamored of you, I’m afraid,” Sam said, as though this were the height of tragedy. “I did wear him out a bit, poor thing, although he was quite pent up and eager, it’s been a while since he had a proper lay. He’s asleep in my bed as we speak.”

“Holy shit,” Lucy said, to no one in particular. Sam kissed Flynn’s neck again.

“What do you think?” Sam murmured, squeezing Flynn’s hips. “Shall we go in and wake him? I’ve only just started breaking him in and there’s so many ways we can play with him…”

Flynn gave a choked-off groan as Sam thrust his hips into him, his gaze connecting with Lucy’s.

A slow, determined smile spread over Lucy’s face. “I think it’s only fair we clear up any misunderstandings.”

Sam pulled back from Flynn, grinning at the two of them as Flynn nodded. “Well then. This _will_ be fun.”


End file.
